


All It Takes To Win

by FabulosIceCream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood and Injury, District 12 (Hunger Games), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, I just love plance, Kinda, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Slow Burn, but just a little bit, klance, plance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulosIceCream/pseuds/FabulosIceCream
Summary: When Lance volunteers to take his sister's place in the Hunger Games, he believes that he's doomed to die. He stands no chance against the other monstrous tributes, but he promises to return back home alive.Alongside Katie, the other tribute from District 12, he makes his way to the Capitol, becoming one of the favourites of the audience. When the Games begin, all he has to do is stay alive. But things are more complicated than that and Lance fights to survive, facing all kinds of obstacles and people.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. The Reaping

I wake up with a headache. My body is sore, and I stretch out my hand, seeking Veronica, but finding only the cold mattress. Outside, the wind is blowing calmly, and I can see the sun shining through the old curtains. No one would imagine that in a day as beautiful as this, the reaping would take place.

I slowly get out of bed and put on my clothes. My older sister, Veronica is in the kitchen, preparing a supposed breakfast, but food was limited here, so on the table there were only some berries I gathered yesterday and a piece of goat cheese. I can feel her stress in the silence. This is her last year and after today, she would be free of this event. Unlike her, I still have two years to go through and I can't wait to be 18 and escape this nightmare.

After exchanging small talk, I take the cheese, put on my boots and go outside. I watch as District 12 slowly wakes up. Our home is in the poorest part of the district, where coal miners usually crawl, heading for their shifts. The reaping isn’t until two and people try to go on with their life. After 18, this is no longer your problem.

I pass a few gates and slowly make my way to the edge of the field called Meadow. Separating it from the woods and enclosing all of District 12 is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it’s supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods — packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears — that used to threaten our streets. But since we’re lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it’s usually safe to touch. I listen closely for the hum and after that, I crawl in the stretch near the ground. I always go to the woods. It’s the place where I fell the safest, far away from the lonely streets and the dusty air of the town. It’s also the place where I practice my bow skills and usually hunt dinner for my family.

Even if trespassing is illegal, no one bothers to check. Nevertheless, most do not venture away from the fence. Not unarmed of course. Near a tree I know too well, I search for my bow and arrows. It’s a rarity to have weapons in the district, so I try to keep a low profile.

Ever since I was little I tried to take care of my family. After my dad died because of a deadly illness he got from the mines, I helped my mother and older sister do the chores and provide food. I would always scare my mother to death by blurting out all kinds of mean things about the people who rule our country, Panem, from their stuck-up city called the Capitol. Eventually, I learnt to hold my tongue. These things would only lead us to more trouble. In the market, I only make small talk, trying to keep a low profile and in the Hob, the black market where I make my money, I don’t discuss things that could incriminate me in any shape or form. It’s a low life, but if it means keeping my family safe then so be it.

In the woods, I meet with the only person I can be myself with, Keith. I can truly relax when I’m with my childhood friend, exploring the woods.

“Hey McClain,” he says, from his place over the hills. I sit down next to him, in the tall grass, relaxing under the sun.

“Here, I shot a real deal,” he says, giving me half a loaf. It’s a real bakery treat, not like the dense loaves we make from our grain ratios. I inhale the intoxicating scent and drool.

“What did it cost you?” I ask, still feeling the warmth of the bread.

“Just a squirrel,” he says, smirking.

I pull out the cheese Veronica gave me and hand half of it to him. Keith slices it in small pieces with his knife and we eat in silence. I love moments like this, when I can forget about the Capitol, The Hunger Games and the horrors of District 12. Everything would be perfect if today was not the day. The day two of our neighbours go into that deadly game.

“We could do it,” Keith says, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Leave the district, run off. We could make it, you and me. We both have the skills to survive in the woods…”

I don’t know how to respond.

“We can’t. I can’t leave my sister and mother…”

The conversation died down. I couldn’t do that. It was too hard. Veronica is somehow capable, but mother is not ready to face the harsh environment. I know the woods like the back of my hand, but for them, it would be hard.

I glanced at Keith, who had his eyes closed. For him, it would be the last year and he was not stressed about getting chosen. He had never been. I met him almost 6 years ago when he was picking up fights with the other kids because they were bullying him. He had always been the subject of gossip, ever since his father died and he became an orphan. Nobody knows anything about his mother or her whereabouts so he has been discriminated against for it. Even so, he always puts up a fight and I admire him for that. He may be hot-headed, but I have never seen a more courageous person in my life.

“What do you want to do?” I asked, getting up.

“Let’s fish. We can get something nice for tonight,” he says and jumps on his feet.

Yes, tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come. We usually invite Keith for dinner and maybe tonight we can have a double celebration: he and Veronica would be spared.

~

Around 1 o’clock we make our way home. We swing by the market to sell our goods. I trade some fish for some bread and oil. Keith buys some milk and beans and we continue to the mayor’s house.

I have a little secret with him and I sell him the strawberries for some coins. He lets me under the rug and I’m very thankful for that. I don’t know what will ever happen if the guards find out I’m sneaking in the woods to gather food.

On my way out, I come face to face with Nyma, the mayor’s daughter. She looks stressed and I don’t blame her for that. She’s already dressed for the occasion and Keith can’t hold back a sarcastic remark.

“Pretty dress.”

Nyma shoots him a look but presses her lips together in silence. Usually, she wouldn’t pass an opportunity to make a comeback, especially in front of Keith, but today is an exception. ”Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don’t I?”

I shot her a confused look. “You won’t be going to the Capitol,” I say coolly.

“What can you have? Five entries? He had four when he was just twelve years old.” Keith remarks, not impressed.

“That’s not her fault,” I say in a whisper.

“No, it’s no one’s fault. Just the way it is,” says Keith. Nyma’s face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. “Good luck, both of you.”

“You too,” I say as she closes the door.

We walk our way back to the houses in silence. Keith shouldn’t have argued with her, but somehow he is right. The reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility when your name goes into the pool seven times. That’s true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem.

But here’s the catch. Say you are poor and starving as we were. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tesserae is worth a meager year’s supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, I had my name entered four times. Once, because I had to, and three times for tesserae for grain and oil for myself, Veronica, and my mother. In fact, every year I have needed to do this. And the entries are cumulative. So now, at the age of sixteen, my name will be in the reaping twenty times. Thankfully, Keith doesn’t have the same treatment. He only tends for himself. Somehow I managed to convince Veronica that she shouldn't put her name for then she needs this year.

Even so, Nyma isn’t the one who should be stressed. The chances of her getting picked are very slim, compared to other kids. I know someone from our neighbourhood who has his name over 40 times. Keith knows his anger at Nyma is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. And I agree with him. 100%.

~

At home, I find my mother and sister ready to go. Veronica has put on her best dress, made from light-blue cotton. It’s the only day she wears it. Mother helps me into a white shirt and simple pants and brushes my hair. I’m old enough to this myself of course, but somehow it just makes her happy and relaxed.

We go together to the square. I can still feel Veronica is very stressed, but I grab her hand in order to calm her down. I have never doubted her; we had always shared the same desire to protect our family. We are the same, me and her, and yet, I will never forget my father’s last words: _“Protect your mother and sister, even if it costs you your life”_. That day, on his death bed, I swore I would do everything in my power to help them in any way shape or form.

It’s too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square — one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant. The square’s surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there’s good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there’s an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.

People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another’s hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they’re ordinary or merchant if they will break down and weep.

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square’s quite large, but not enough to hold District 12’s population of about eight thousand. I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from my neighbourhood. We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. I stare at the paper slips in the boys’ ball. Twenty of them have Lance McClain written on them in careful handwriting.

Two of the three chairs fill with Nyma’s father, the mayor, who’s a tall, balding man, and Allura Brooks, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her beautiful long white hair and expensive clothes. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.

When the clock strikes two, the mayor steps up on the podium and gives his usual speech about the rising of Panem and his history, the rebellion and the birth of what we now call the Hunger Games. It’s the same every time and I don’t bother listening to it.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins. Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event putting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.

Before the mayor finishes, he reads the list of the past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. Shirogane Takashi, a silent, 25-year old walks up on the stage and sits on the empty seat. He participated in the games almost 10 years ago and ever since he came back, he had never been the same. It might be the fact that his hair is now white or the big scar across his face and the mechanical arm, or the simple fact that he rarely talks or opens up to anyone, living alone. I don’t blame him, to survive such a thing must be traumatizing.

Allura trots the podium with her bright smile and gives her signature, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!” She goes on about what an honour it is to be here and I swear I can see Shiro mentally shake his head.

Keith slowly makes his way near me and a ghost of a smile appears on his face.

It’s time for the drawing. Allura walks slowly on her high heels and stops near the first ball.

“Ladies first!” she says and digs her hand deep into the ball, pulling out a slip of paper. I’m feeling nauseous and so desperate, hoping for the moment to pass.

Allura crosses back to the podium, smoothing the piece of paper.

“Veronica McClain!” she reads, loud and clear.


	2. The Tributes of District 12

The world fell around me as I heard my sister’s name. I couldn’t breathe. I felt Keith’s hand on my shoulder, but I couldn’t process a thing. Not her, not in her last year, when I begged her not to enter her name for a tesserae. When she had fewer entries.

I slowly turn my head to the girls’ group, as everyone made space for her to go to the stage. Veronica’s face was drained of blood, pale as a ghost.

_“Protect your mother and sister, even if it costs you your life.”_

My father’s voice rang in my ears. Even if I am the little brother, I couldn’t let her go. Not now, with her future so planned out. She could take care of mother more than I could.

“Veronica! Veronica!” I cried after her and the other kids made way for me to pass to her. Before I could process what I was doing, my voice came out in a scream. ”I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

Everyone is confused. District 12 hasn’t had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has become rusty. The rule is that once a tribute’s name has been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy’s name has been read, or girl, if a girl’s name has been read, can step forward to take his or her place. In some cases, if someone volunteers for the opposite sex, then the escort must pick again a name from the same ball, in order for a female and a male to participate. In some districts, in which winning the reaping is such a great honour, people are eager to risk their lives, the volunteering is complicated. But in District 12, where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse, volunteers are all but extinct.

“Lovely!” Allura says and shakes her gloved hand, signalling for me to come on the stage.

Behind me, I hear Veronica’s painful cry. “Lance, don’t!” she wraps her hand in mine, but I harshly brake the embrace.

“I need to do what I must,” I say, trying to sound brave. I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of everyone. I feel Keith taking hold of Veronica, who stumbles to the ground.

I slowly make my way up on the stage and Allura smiles brightly at me.

“Excellent!” she gushes.” That is the spirit of the games! What’s your name?”

“Lance McClain,” I say, swallowing hard.

“Oh, I bet that was your sister, right? Nice for you to volunteer for you big sibling! Now come on, let’s give a big round of applause to our first tribute!”

No one in the crowd cheered. Not even the ones making bets, with no care in the world. Maybe they recognized me from the Hob or knew my father. I stay there, in silence, looking emptily over the crowd.

What have I done?

After some time I finally start to process what just happened. I am going to die.

Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don’t expect it because I don’t think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Veronica’s place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

This has never happened before and I stay there, like an idiot, almost crying. I put my hands behind my back and stare into the distance. I can see the hills I climbed this morning with Keith. For a moment, I yearn for something . . . the idea of us leaving the district . . . making our way in the woods . . . but I know I was right about not running off. Because who else would have volunteered for Veronica? I made the right decision. Unlike me, Veronica really had a future. She was preparing to become a teacher, while I was wasting time in the woods, living in a dream. I make eye contact with Keith and he slowly shakes his head.

“What an exciting day!” Allura exclaims, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. “Now that we have our boy tribute, it’s time to pick a girl once again!” she slips her hand into the ball and grabs the first paper. She zips back to the podium and reads the next name clearly.

“Katie Holt.”

Katie Holt…

Oh no. Not her! I recognized this name, although I had never spoken with her before.

I watch as she makes her way on the stage slowly, still shaken up by hearing her name from the escort’s mouth. Small and petite, with long sandy-brown hair braided on her shoulder and dressed in a light green skirt, Katie makes her way on the other side of Allura. I could see her empty honey-coloured eyes trying to remain emotionless, but they water slowly.

Allura asks for volunteers, but no one steps forward. Katie only has an older brother, already 20, so too old to participate. I see him in the crowd, near their parents, watching hopelessly as the younger member of the family is sent off to her death. Her mother, the baker, is holding onto her husband as if her life depended on it. The Holts own the only bakery, even if Samuel Holt is what someone would call a mechanic. They are merchants per se, so Katie’s name couldn’t have been there more than four times, unlike mine.

The mayor begins to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason, but I don’t listen. My head is spinning.

Why her? Even if we are not friends, I can’t shake the feeling everything is wrong. Our only interaction happened years ago, so she has probably forgotten it, but I won’t. I was at my lowest after my father died and we barely could live another day. Mother was devastated and entered a depressive state. Veronica tried to take the role of the head of the family, but it was hard. She was only 12, preparing for her first reaping and I tried to help as much as a 10-year old could. It was exhausting. We were starving to death, but in District 12 starvation was more common than one would think. We are the poorest District out of all 12, the most unimportant.

On the afternoon of my encounter with Katie Holt, the rain was falling in relentless icy sheets. I had been in town, trying to trade some threadbare old baby clothes of mine in the public market, but there were no takers. Although I had been to the Hob on several occasions with my father, I was frightened to venture into that rough, gritty place alone. The rain had soaked through my father’s hunting jacket, leaving me chilled to the bone. For three days, we’d had nothing but boiled water with some old, dried mint leaves I’d found in the back of a cupboard. By the time the market closed, I was shaking so hard I dropped my bundle of baby clothes in a mud puddle. I didn’t pick it up for fear I would keel over and be unable to regain my feet. Besides, no one wanted those clothes.

I found myself stumbling along a muddy lane behind the shops that serve the wealthiest townspeople. The merchants live above their businesses, so I was essentially in their backyards.

When I passed the baker’s, the smell of fresh bread was so overwhelming I felt dizzy. The ovens were in the back, and a golden glow spilt out the open kitchen door. I stood mesmerized by the heat and the luscious scent until the rain interfered, running its icy fingers down my back, forcing me back to life. I lifted the lid to the baker’s trash bin and found it spotlessly, heartlessly bare.

As I carefully replaced the lid and backed away, I noticed her, a girl with long brown hair peeking out from the doorway. I’d seen her at school. She was in my year, but I didn’t know her name. She was exceptional, having the highest grades in our class. The teacher always joked that she had the brightest mind and future in all of District 12.

My knees buckled and I slid down the tree trunk to its roots. It was too much. I was too sick and weak and tired, oh, so tired. I saw as she made her way back into the house and for a moment, I thought she was going to call the Peacemakers. There was a clatter in the bakery and she came back, running to me in the rain. She slowly put a warm cloth in my hands and ran back inside without a word.

The heat of the bread burned into my hands and I clutched the two big loaves in my hands. That day, Katie Holt saved my family and today I sentenced her to death.

The mayor finished speaking and motions for us to shake hands. Hers are cold and small, almost delicate, compared to my beaten and harsh ones. I try to give her a reassuring squeeze, but she pulls her hand away, not meeting my eyes.

We turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There will be twenty-four of us. Watching her frail and small body, I can’t shake the feeling that she will be in the firsts to die. Odds are someone else will kill her before I have to do it.

~

After the anthem ends, we are taken into custody. A group of Peacemakers take hold of us and we are put into two separate rooms in the Justice Building. I sit on the couch and for the first time today, I cry. This time allotted for the tributes to say good-bye to their loved ones.

I try to dry my eyes. I don’t want to look weak, especially in front of the cameras. They will be everywhere on the road to the station.

My mother and sister come first. Veronica slaps me hard but then embraces me tightly. We both cry and she murmurs how stupid I am. My mother wraps her hands around us and for a few moments, we say nothing.

After that, I tell them what they should do. I know and trust that Veronica will take care of the household in my place. I don’t want to sound like I will never see them again, but I need to be realistic.

Before they leave, I kiss her on the cheeks and gave goodbye one last time.

I can’t win. They both know this in their heart and yet remain optimistic. It’s hard for one from my district to fight against the monsters from district 1 or 2, where everyone trains for this day: boys three times bigger than me or girls who can throw knives at the speed of light.

Someone else enters the room and I’m surprised to his is Samuel Hold. He hands me a white package containing cookies and we sit in silence.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He looks at me with warm eyes. “It’s not your fault. I know Matt would have done the same for his sister given he was in your place.”

He is friendly, despite knowing that me and his daughter will probably have to fight against each other.

“I’ll keep an eye on you folks, make sure they have something to eat,” he says, before leaving.

My next guest is also unexpected. Nyma walks straight to me. She is not weepy or evasive, instead, there’s an urgency about her tone that surprises me.

“They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?” She holds out the circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now I see it’s a small bird in flight.

“Your pin?” I say. Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind. “Here, I’ll put it on your shirt, all right?” Nyma doesn’t wait for an answer, she just leans in and fixes the bird on me.

“Promise you’ll wear it into the arena, Lance?” she asks. “Promise?”

“Yes,” I say. Cookies. A pin. I’m getting all kinds of gifts today. Nyma gives me one more. A kiss on the cheek. Then she’s gone and I’m left thinking that maybe Nyma really has been my friend all along.

After she’s gone, Keith is the next to enter the room. He hugs me closely and then scolds me for my stupidity.

“Listen,” he says. “Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you’ve got to get your hands on a bow. That’s your best chance.”

“They don’t always have bows,” I say, thinking of the year there were only horrible spiked maces that the tributes had to bludgeon one another to death with. “Then make one,” says Keith. “Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all.”

I have tried copying my father’s bows with poor results. It’s not that easy. Even he had to scrap his own work sometimes. “I don’t even know if there’ll be wood,” I say. Another year, they tossed everybody into a landscape of nothing but boulders and sand and scruffy bushes. I particularly hated that year. Many contestants were bitten by venomous snakes or went insane from thirst.

“There’s almost always some wood,” Keith says. “Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that.”

I nod.

“Lance, it’s just hunting. You’re the best hunter I know,” he says, trying to comfort me in a way.

“It’s not just hunting. They’re armed. They think,” I say.

“So do you. And you’ve had more practice. Real practice,” he says. “You know how to kill.”

“Not people,” I say.

“How different can it be, really?” says Keith grimly.

The Peacemakers come and take him away, even if he asks for more time.

“Take care of them, Please Keith!”

“I won’t let you down Lance!” he screams before they yank him away and I’m also taken away to the station. It’s time to leave.

I’ve been right to dry my tears. The station is crawling with cameras trained directly at my face. I catch a glimpse of myself on a television screen and I still look shocked as hell.

On the other hand, Katie looks almost bored. Like she had already accepted her death sentence. Her eyes are a little bit red, but she tries to remain composed.

We step in the train, followed by Allura and Shiro, who will be our mentor as the other winner of the district. Slowly, the doors close behind us and I glance for one last time at my home, District 12.


	3. Capitol

The speed of the train initially takes my breath away. I’ve never been on one, as travel between districts is forbidden except for officials. I’ve only seen coal trains, but this one is further from that; it’s a Capitol Train. With it, our journey will take less than a day.

The tribute train is fancier than the rooms in the Justice Building. We are each given our own chamber that has a bedroom and a personal bathroom, and I can’t hide my surprise. I think this room is bigger than most of my house.

There are drawers filled with clothes, expensive ones, and Allura tells me that everything is at my disposal. I can do anything I want – just be ready for supper in an hour. In that time, I take a shower; back home these were a luxury, especially with warm water, so for the first time in a long time I relax under the shower head. After that, I dress in a comfortable pair of black pants, a shirt and a jacket I find in one of the cabinets. They are so soft and clean that I feel like a baby.

At the last minute, I remember Nyma’s little golden pin. I examine it for the first time, getting a good look at the details. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wing tips. I suddenly recognize it. A mockingjay.

Father loved them. He used to tell me how they were something of a slap in the face to the Capitol, during the rebellion. They bred a series of genetically altered animals as weapons. The common term for them was mutations, or sometimes mutts for short. One was a special bird called a jabberjay that had the ability to memorize and repeat whole human conversations. They were homing birds, exclusively male, that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centers to be recorded. It took people awhile to realize what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centers were shut down and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

Only they didn’t die off. Instead, the jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds, creating a whole new species that could replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They had lost the ability to enunciate words but could still mimic a range of human vocal sounds, from a child’s high-pitched warble to a man’s deep tones. And they could re-create songs. Not just a few, but whole songs with multiple verses, if you had the patience to sing them and if they liked your voice.

After an hour, Allura comes to collect me for supper. I follow her through the narrow, rocking corridor into a large dinning room. In the middle of it, it’s a table full of different kind of dishes smelling wonderful. Katie Holt is waiting in one of the chairs, having a whispered conversation with Shiro.

When we enter, they stop and I can see Katie avoiding my gaze. Shiro shakes my hand and congratulates me on my brave behavior. I sit down and glance at Katie, who also changed. Her hair is up in a ponytail this time and she is dressed in white shirt and dark-green trousers.

The supper comes in courses. A thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal, Allura keeps reminding us to save space because there’s more to come. But I’m stuffing myself because I’ve never had food like this, so good and so much, and because probably the best thing I can do between now and the Games is put on a few pounds. Even Katie enjoys the food, as much as I can see. Even if she was the baker’s daughter, I don’t think she ever had meals as amazing as this.

“At least, you two have decent manners,” says Allura as we’re finishing the main course. “The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion.”

The pair last year were to kids from the poorest part of the town. They never had enough to eat so I’m not surprised to hear this. Unfortunately, in the games, they didn’t survive too long.

After supper, we go to another room to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. One by one, we see the reapings, the names called and the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids we will fight in the arena and Katie seems to analyze their every move. A few stand out in my mind. A monstrous girl who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl from District 5 and most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old from District 11.

Last of all, they show District 12, Veronica being called, me running to take her place. I see Keith pulling her off me and watch myself walking to the stage. The commentators praise this as a historical moment for my district, but are not sure what to say about the lack of applause from the crowd. Then Katie’s name is called, we shake hands and the program is over.

“Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. Didn’t you see what beautiful speeches the ones from the first Districts made?” Allura says, turning to Shiro.

“There is nothing to talk about, nothing to be proud of,” he says and the conversation dies down.

After that, everyone goes back to their rooms. The train stops at a platform to refuel and I quickly open the window and take a breath of fresh air. I was panicking, like everything was finally settling down.

The trains speeds up and I close the window. In the distance I see the lights of another district. Maybe 7? Or 11? I don’t know. I imagine the people celebrating another year in their safety and then think about mom and Veronica. Did they eat dinner? Did they watch the recap?

Imagining my home makes me ache with loneliness. This day has been endless. Could Keith and I have been eating blackberries only this morning? It seems like a lifetime ago. Like a long dream that deteriorated into a nightmare. Maybe, if I go to sleep, I will wake up back in District 12, where I belong.

~

I wake up in the morning with a headache, because Allura is shaking me awake.

“Up,up, up! Today is a big, big, big day!” she announces and takes off to Katie’s room. I put on the same outfit as yesterday in a hurry and rush to the dining hall.

As I enter the room, Allura brushes by me with a cup of black coffee and we sit at the table. The moment I slide into my chair I’m served an enormous platter of food. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes. A tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled. I feel like a king.

I take a sip of a cup with something rich brown and it tastes amazing.

“That’s hot chocolate,” Allura says as she sees me enjoying it. I stuff down everything I can and drink at least 5 cups of hot chocolate. Unlike me, Pidge drinks tea, and I think that maybe that could have relaxed me much better.

Shiro is eating slowly, in a contrast with the both of us. He is silent, as ever. Just imagining how many kids he had seen to the arena, none of them to come out alive. District 12, being the poorest, doesn’t usually get sponsors and they play a big part in surviving the arena. They usually send food or different kind of medicine and weapons to help you win.

My thoughts shatter when I drop my cup and it shatters on the floor. I get up to collect the shards, but I slice my palm in one of them. I try to gather some ice and a napkin to stop the bleeding, but Shiro’s voice stops me.

“Let the bruise show,” he says calmly, his gaze piercing my soul.

“What?”

“The audience will think you’ve mixed up with another tribute before you’ve made it to the arena.”

“That’s against the rules,” Katie says, still chewing on her fries.

“Only if they catch you. The bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better!” says Shiro, waking up from his slumber. “Stand over there, the both of you,” he says and me and Katie obey, going to the middle of the room. It seems our training is about to begin.

Shiro examines us for some seconds and nods.

“I believe that you have potential. After the stylist get a hold oy you, I think you’ll get some sponsors. Although, that will also depend on your performance at the Capitol.”

I don’t question this. He is right; the most good-looking tributes seem to gather all the sponsors.  
“If you want to live, you have to do exactly as I say, alright?” he says and both of us nod.

Before I could open my mouth to ask my first question, Shiro continues.

“In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist.”

“But —” I begin.

“No buts. Don’t resist,” he says and takes his leave.

I am left alone with Katie and we stay there, in silence, as the train speed up. The train finally begins to slow down and suddenly bright light floods the compartment. We can’t help it. Both Katie and I run to the window to see what we’ve only seen on television, the Capitol, the ruling city of Panem. The cameras haven’t lied about its grandeur. If anything, they have not quite captured the magnificence of the glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues that tower into the air, the shiny cars that roll down the wide paved streets, the oddly dressed people with bizarre hair and painted faces who have never missed a meal. All the colours seem artificial, the pinks too deep, the greens too bright, the yellows painful to the eyes, like the flat round disks of hard candy we can never afford to buy at the tiny sweet shop in District 12.

The people begin to point at us eagerly as they recognize a tribute train rolling into the city. Katie steps away from the window, sickened by their excitement, knowing they can’t wait to watch us die.

I follow her actions slowly. One of them could be a sponsor and yet I can’t find the courage to approach them.

~

As soon as we step out of the train, we are rushed to the ‘Remake Center’ where a woman ‘tortures’ me. She yanks strips of fabric from my legs and hands and then scrubs my legs with a gritty foam that has removed not only dirt, but three layers of skin... She cuts a bit of my hair, which until now was pretty uneven. I’ve been here for almost three hours and they can’t seem to finish.

When the torture is finally over, the three people that worked on me admire my body like I’m a statue. “Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!” says one of them and they laugh.

I hate this, but I force my lips into a smile.

After that, they dart out of the room to call the stylist, a man named Thace. The door opens and a middle-aged man enters. I’m taken aback by how normal he looks, compared to the others’ artificial clothes and faces.

“Hello, Lance. I’m Thace, your stylist,” he says in a quiet voice that is somewhat lacking in the other Capitol’s people.

“Hello…”

He nods and then walk around me, probably imagining some sort of clothes for me.

"You’re new, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” I say. Most of the stylists are familiar, constants in the everchanging pool of tributes. Some have been around my whole life.

“Yes, this is my first year.”

“So they gave you District 12.”

“I asked for it,” he says and I’m confused. Who would want to dress the kids from the poorest ugliest district?

After he finishes, I dress up and follow him into another sitting room, where the two of us have a chat.

“So, Lance, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Ulaz, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Katie. And our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes,” he says. “As you know, it’s customary to reflect the flavour of the district.”

For the opening ceremonies, you’re supposed to wear something that suggests your district’s principal industry. District 11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories. This means that coming from District 12, Peeta and I will be in some kind of coal miner’s getup. Since the baggy miner’s jumpsuits are not particularly becoming, our tributes usually end up in skimpy outfits and hats with headlamps. One year, our tributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust. It’s always dreadful and does nothing to win favour with the crowd. I prepare myself for the worst.

“So, I’ll be in a coal miner outfit?” I ask, jokingly.

“Not exactly. You see, Ulaz and I think that coal miner thing’s very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make the District 12 tributes unforgettable. So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we’re going to focus on the coal,” says Thace.

Naked and covered in black dust. Perfect

“And what do we do with coal? We burn it,” he continues. “You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Lance?” He sees my expression and grins.


	4. On Fire

A few hours later, I am dressed in what will either be the most sensational or the deadliest costume in the opening ceremonies. I’m in a simple black unitard that covers me from ankle to neck. Shiny leather boots lace up to my knees. But it’s the fluttering cape made of streams of orange, yellow, and red and the matching headpiece that define this costume. Thace plans to light them on fire just before our chariot rolls into the streets. Katie looks amazing. Her hair is braided meticulously and she is dressed similar to me. She doesn’t have a lot of make-up on her face, but she takes my breath away. 

“It’s not real flame, just a little project me and Ulaz came up with. You’ll be perfectly fine.” Thace says, seeing my anxious expression.

Even so, I’m not convinced.

“I want the crowd to recognize you when you are in the arena,” Ulaz says. “Katie and Lance, the kids on fire!”

We’re whisked down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, which is essentially a gigantic stable. The opening ceremonies are about to start.

Pairs of tributes are being loaded into chariots pulled by teams of four horses. Ours are coal black. The animals are so well trained, no one even needs to guide their reins. Ulaz and Thace direct us into the chariot and carefully arrange our body positions, the drape of our capes, before moving off to consult with each other.

The opening music begins. It’s easy to hear, blasted around the Capitol. Massive doors slide open revealing the crowd-lined streets. The ride lasts about twenty minutes and ends up at the City Circle, where they will welcome us, play the anthem, and escort us into the Training Center, which will be our home/prison until the Games begin.

The tributes from District 1 ride out in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses. They look so beautiful, spray-painted silver, in tasteful tunics glittering with jewels. District 1 makes luxury items for the Capitol. You can hear the roar of the crowd. They are always favourites.

District 2 gets into position to follow them. In no time at all, we are approaching the door and I can see that between the overcast sky and evening hour the light is turning grey. The tributes from District 11 are just rolling out when Thace appears with a lighted torch.

“Here we go then,” he says, and before we can react he sets our capes on fire. I gasp, waiting for the heat, but there is only a faint tickling sensation. Thace climbs up before us and ignites our headdresses. He lets out a sigh of relief. “It works.” Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. “Remember, heads high. Smiles. They’re going to love you!”

I glance out at Katie, who was already looking at me with her beautiful eyes. She was dazzling, the girl on fire. And I must be too, sparkling.

The crowd’s initial alarm at our appearance quickly changes to cheers and shouts of “District Twelve!” Every head is turned our way, pulling the focus from the three chariots ahead of us. At first, I’m frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces. We seem to be leaving a trail of fire off the flowing capes.

I grab Katie’s hand, but she takes it away.

“Trust me, they’ll love this,” I say and she nods shortly. Her hand is still cold, in contrast with mine. I grab her hand softly and raise it up and the crowd explodes. I can feel Katie tense down and with her empty hand, she waves and I follow her actions.

I raise my chin and smile, the most charming and wide smile I could make. I try to blow some kisses to the crowd and they are in ecstasy. Adrenaline rushes through me. The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can’t suppress my excitement. Thace and Ulaz have given us a great advantage. No one will forget us.

Someone throws me a red rose. I catch it, give it a delicate sniff, and blow a kiss back in the general direction of the giver. A hundred hands reach up to catch my kiss as if it were a real and tangible thing. “Lance! Lance!” I can hear my name being called from all sides. Everyone wants my kisses.

It’s not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Katie’s hand. That’s how tightly I’ve been holding it. I look down at our linked fingers as I loosen my grasp, but she regains her grip on me. “No, don’t let go of me,” she whispers softly. The firelight flickers off her golden eyes. “Please. I might fall out of this thing.”

“Okay,” I say. So I keep holding on, but I can’t help feeling strange about the way Thace has linked us together. It’s not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.

The twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle. On the buildings that surround the Circle, every window is packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Our horses pull our chariot right up to President Zarkon’s mansion, and we come to a halt. The music ends with a flourish.

The president, a big, muscular man, gives the official welcome from a balcony above us. He is accompanied by his only son, Lotor, who will one day succeed the old man. The boy doesn’t seem much older than us, scanning each chariot with his bored eyes. His gaze lands on us and he smirks. Our eyes don’t meet, because he’s staring at Katie, not at me and an uncomfortable feeling rises in my chest. He gazes at her like she’s his prey and a strange instinct kicks in.

After the president is done, they salute us once again and the chariots parade again, to the Training Center. The doors have only just shut behind us when we’re engulfed by the prep teams, who are nearly unintelligible as they babble out praise. As I glance around, I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I’ve suspected, we’ve literally outshone them all. Then Thace and Ulaz are there, helping us down from the chariot, carefully removing our flaming capes and headdresses. Ulaz extinguishes them with some kind of spray from a canister.

I realize I’m still glued to Katie and I let go of her hand, blushing furiously.

Get a hold of yourself, Lance!

“Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there. I hope it didn’t show,” she says and the for the first time I feel a connection between us. Until now, I felt that she hated me with her whole being, but now she is starting to warm up to me.

“I’m sure they didn’t notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often, they suit you,” I say and smirk and Katie shakes her head disapprovingly, not proud of my pick-up line.

~

The Training Center has a tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. This will be our home until the actual Games begin. Each district has an entire floor. You simply step onto an elevator and press the number of your district. Easy enough to remember.

Apparently, Allura’s duties did not conclude at the station. She and Shiro will be overseeing us right into the arena. We’re the first team she’s ever chaperoned that made a splash at the opening ceremonies. She’s complimentary about not just our costumes but how we conducted ourselves. And, to hear her tell it, Allura knows everyone who’s anyone in the Capitol and has been talking us up all day, trying to win us sponsors. In a way, I really like her. She seems genuinely trying to help us and she is very friendly.

My quarters are larger than our entire house back home. They are plush, like the train car, but also have so many automatic gadgets that I’m sure I won’t have time to press all the buttons. The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options you can choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges. When you step out on a mat, heaters come on that blow-dry your body.

I program the closet for an outfit to my taste. The windows zoom in and out on parts of the city at my command. You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less than a minute.

It’s such a huge contrast from life in District 12, and yet, I’m not surprised. I’ve always heard the luxury the citizens of the Capitol live in.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Allura’s voice calling me to dinner.

Good. I’m starving.

When we enter, Shiro, Thace, Ulaz and Katie are already there. I’m glad to see the stylist and most especially Katie. Even so, dinner is not really about food, but about planning our next moves. While Shiro and Allura prize the stylist for their job, me and Katie silently eat our food. We are served some kind of mushroom soup and bitter tomatoes, followed by rice and steak.

We eat the cake and then go to the sitting room to watch the opening ceremonies again.

A few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of them can hold a candle to us.

“Whose idea was the hand-holding?” asks Shiro.

“Mine,” I say, raising my hand.

“Just the perfect touch of rebellion, very nice,” he says and I see Shiro smile widely for the first time.

Rebellion? I have to think about that one for a moment. But when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist, as if the Games had already begun, I know what Shiro means. Presenting ourselves not as adversaries but as friends has distinguished us as much as the fiery costumes.

“Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I’ll tell you exactly how I want you to play it,” says Shiro to Katie and me. “Now go to sleep, you need it.”

Katie and I walk together down the corridors to our rooms, but I didn’t feel sleepy yet. I wanted to get to know her more, even if my instincts were screaming at me not to form a friendship with her; it would only be harder to kill her when the time will come.

Almost like reading my mind, she leans against the frame and crosses her hands. “Have you been to the roof yet?” she askes and I shake my head.

“Ulaz showed me. You can practically see the whole city from up there,” she continues, and I understand that she wants us to talk, in private, away from the surveillance here.

I nod and then follow her to a flight of stairs that lead to the roof. She wasn’t kidding. You can see all of the city from this tower. And it was breathtaking.

Katie and I walk to a railing at the edge of the roof. I look down to see the vast Capitol, the streets that somehow are busy even at this hour. You can hear the cars, the people, the heart of the city.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? I asked Ulaz why they let us here even if one of the tributes decides to jump,” she says.

“What’d he say?”

“You can’t,” she continues and holds out her hand into the empty space. There’s a sharp zap and she jerks it back. “There is some kind of electric field that throws you back on the roof,” she says and I can feel the admiration and excitement in her voice.

The teacher's praises come back to mind. Katie has always been a bright kid, fuck more intelligent than the rest of us combined. She did all the school work with ease and the teacher always gave her harder things to solve. Moreover, her father is supposed to be a technician, repairing the limited technology around District 12 and that explains why his daughter would be passionate about all the new things in the Capitol. Maybe she was born in the wrong place because I think she would be happier in District 3.

“Do you think they are watching us now?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Maybe,” she admits. “There are hidden cameras and microphones everywhere. The technology here is amazing and I’m sure even if we search for them, they would be hard to find.”

I look over the roof.

On the other side of the dome, they’ve built a garden with flower beds and potted trees. From the branches hang hundreds of wind chimes, which account for the tinkling I heard. Here in the garden, on this windy night, it’s enough to drown out two people who are trying not to be heard.

We make our way to it and I examine the blossoms. The wind starts blowing harsher and we decide to call it a night. In bed, I fall asleep thinking of Katie’s face illuminated by the fire.


	5. Training

The next day, after taking a shower and dressing in the outfit left for me- tight black pants, leather boots and a long-sleeved tunic, I got to the dining room to have breakfast.

I am the first one up and I take the opportunity to eat and think about my family. Veronica and mother must be already up, eating breakfast just like me. Did they see me in the chariot, on fire? It’s hard to imagine that just two mornings ago I was on the hills with Keith, looing over the woods.

Shiro and Katie come in, bid me good morning and fill up their plates. I’m nervous about the training. There will be three days in which all the tributes practice together. On the last afternoon, we’ll each get a chance to perform in private before the Gamemakers. The thought of meeting the other tributes face-to-face makes me uneasy.

While eating, Shiro explains how things will go.

“Training. If you like, I’ll coach you separately,” he says.

“Why would you do that?”

“Say you have a secret skill you might not want the other to know about,” he continues.

I never thought about this. I’m sure Katie already knows that I hunt, taken all the squirrels I sold to her father. But for me, I knew nothing about what she could do. All the things she told me were about her love for technology, but speaking of fighting skills she was a mystery. I couldn’t imagine a frail girl like her could kill a human being. She looked so angelic and delicate, so different from the other tributes.

“You can coach us together,” she says before I could respond.

“All right, so give me some idea of what you can do,” Shiro says.

“I am pretty good at hunting with a bow,” I say and Shiro nods.

“Well there will be no guarantee that there’ll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during the private session, show them what you can do. The higher your score is, the better,” Shiro says and I nod. “What about you?”

“I know a lot about different plants and some survival skills. I can build traps,” Katie says in a small voice. She said nothing about a weapon and I feel bad. She was a merchant’s daughter, she would never learn how to hunt or how to use a knife. But making traps was an interesting hobby. I guess it connects with her passion for mechanical things so it's no surprise. I am really curious to see what she kind of traps she can build.

“That will come in handy. During the training, try not to reveal how much you know. Same to you Lance. You go to group training. Spend most of the time trying to learn something you don’t know. Throw a spear or swing a mace. Save showing what you can do best until your private sessions. Clear?”

Katie and I nod.

“One last thing. In public, I want you by each other’s side every minute.

We both start to objects, but Shiro silences us. “It’s not open for discussion. We must use this thing to your advantage. Now go and prepare for your training.”

We both nod and go to our rooms. As much as I wanted to be her friend, the circumstances weren’t in my favour. If we were back home I wouldn’t object to this idea, but now it’s not the time to make friends.

~

The actual training rooms are below the ground level of our building. With these elevators, the ride is less than a minute. The doors open into an enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. Although it’s not yet ten, we’re the last ones to arrive. The other tributes are gathered in a tense circle. They each have a cloth square with their district number.

As soon as we join the circle, the head trainer, a tall, athletic woman named Hira steps up and begins to explain the training schedule. Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose, per our mentor’s instructions. Some of the stations teach survival skills, others fighting techniques. We are forbidden to engage in any combative exercise with another tribute. There are assistants on hand if we want to practice with a partner.

While Hira reads the list of skills we can learn, I examine the other tributes. I’m a pretty tall guy, but more than half of these people are bigger than me. I try not to feel intimidated, thinking about how Katie must feel right now.

Even so, many of them weren’t fed properly, just like me. I can see it in their bones and muscle. The exceptions are the kids from the wealthiest district. I glance at the monstrous girl who volunteered in District 2, Zethrid. The tributes from 1, 2, and 4 traditionally have this look about them. It’s technically against the rules to train tributes before they reach the Capitol but it happens every year. In District 12, we call them the Career Tributes or just the Careers. And like it or not, the winner will be one of them. I think in the past 10 years, the majority of winners were from there, except 1 kid from district 7 and two from district 3. It’s harder for the tributes from the poorest districts, as they are the most vulnerable.

I’m suddenly brought back to reality when Katie nudges my arm. “Where should we go?” she asks.

“Suppose we tie some knots,” I say. We should start with something simple and essential, before going to the more hard-core stuff.

We cross the corridor to the empty station where the trainer seems pleased to have students; tying knots is not the most interesting for most of the tributes. The trainer shows us different knots and teaches us how to make traps. I am surprised to see handy Katie is. She learns the skill must faster than me.

We concentrate on this for almost two hours and then move on to camouflage. Katie doesn’t seem to enjoy this one very much, but she still listens carefully to the instructor. I knew some basic things, manly to conceal my weapons in the forest, but the teacher showed us techniques to hide ourselves.

So the next three days pass with Katie and me going quietly from station to station. We do pick up some skills, Katie the most. She’s a fast learner that’s for sure and everything she tries she solves. I try to steer clear of archery, wanting to have this for the private session.

The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day. Twenty or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They sit in the elevated stands that surround the gymnasium, sometimes wandering about to watch us, jotting down notes, other times eating at the endless banquet that has been set for them, ignoring the lot of us. But they do seem to be keeping their eye on the District 12 tributes. Several times I’ve looked up to find one fixated on me. They consult with the trainers during our meals as well. We see them all gathered together when we come back.

During lunch, me and Katie stay alone. The Career Tributes tend to gather rowdily around one table as if to prove their superiority, so I’m left alone with her in a corner. I try to crack some jokes and I tell her stories about my adventures with Keith in the woods. We seem to grow closer and I don’t like it. I pray that she will be killed by someone else other than me.

While training, I can’t shake the feeling someone is watching me. The girl from District 11, the youngest tribute among us follows me with her gaze. Up close she looks about ten. She has bright, dark eyes and satiny brown skin and stands tilted up on her toes with her arms slightly extended to her sides, as if ready to take wing at the slightest sound. It’s impossible not to think of a bird. Katie tells me her name is Rue and I can’t help but remember it.

~

On the third day of training, they start to call us out of lunch for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. District by district, first the boy, then the girl tribute. As usual, District 12 is slated to go last. We linger in the dining room, unsure where else to go. No one comes back once they have left. As the room empties, the pressure to appear friendly lightens. By the time they call Rue, we are left alone. We sit in silence until they summon me. It seems Katie will be the last.

“Good luck, make sure to shoot straight,” she tells me and I wink.

“You too, impress them with your… plants skills…?” I say, unsure even now of what her secret ability is.

I walk into the gymnasium and I can’t shake the feeling I’m in trouble. The Gamemakers must have been here long enough to get bored. Had too much wine, I suppose. They want nothing but to finish this and go home.

Even so, there’s nothing I can do and go to the archery station. The bows are very different from the one I have at home, old, made from wood and almost breaking.

It’s time to show them who is the sharpest shooters here. I walk to the centre of the gymnasium and pick my first target. The dummy used for knife practice. Even as I pull back on the bow I know something is wrong. The string’s tighter than the one I use at home. The arrow’s more rigid. I miss the dummy by a couple of inches and lose what little attention I had been commanding. For a moment, I’m humiliated, but I try to get back on track. I retake my stance and shot the next dummy right through the heart.

Then I sever the rope that holds the sandbag for boxing, and the bag splits open as it slams to the ground. Without pausing, I shoulder-roll forward, come up on one knee, and send an arrow into one of the hanging lights high above the gymnasium floor. A shower of sparks bursts from the fixture.

They are one of the best shots I have ever done, but the Gamemakers don’t pay attention to me, speaking among themselves, their attention fixated on a roast pig that has just arrived at their banquet.

I’m furious. They should be marking me, not speak to themselves! Without thinking, I pull an arrow from my quiver and send it straight at the Gamemakers’ table. I hear shouts of alarm as people stumble back. The arrow skewers the apple in the pig’s mouth and pins it to the wall behind it. Everyone stares at me in disbelief.

“Thank you for your consideration,” I say, smirking widely, then walking out of the room without looking back.

~

The gravity of what I have done starts sinking in while I’m in the elevator and I start panicking. What have I done? Did I just make all my slim chances disappear in a matter of seconds? Are they going o burst in and take me to prison? Am I going to die?

When I get to my floor, I rush to my room, not bothering to chat with Allura and Shiro.

I start crying when I hit the bed. Why am I so stupid? I just created my death bed because of my ego.

I hear Shiro’s voice at my door, but I shout for him to go away and after some minutes he does. I curl in bed and wait for the guards, but as time passes nothing happens and I start to calm down.

When Allura taps on my door to call me to dinner, I decide to dry my tears and face them. The scored will be televised tonight so I might as well watch them.

Everyone is waiting at the table. It seems Katie has also finished her session and she’s peeking at her food. She meets my gaze and raises her eyebrow. _What happened?_

As I sit, Shiro turns to me and Katie.

“How bad were you?” he asks.

“When I entered they were kinda shaken and alerted. I made them a trap in less than five minutes and was dismissed. I’m curious to know what Lance did to get them to be so stiff,” Katie says, looking at me with a smirk.

“I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers.”

Everyone stops eating. “You what?” The horror in Allura’s voice confirms my worse suspicious. I think it’s the first time I heard her raise her voice.

“I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just . . . I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig’s mouth!” I say defiantly.

“And what did they say?” asks Thace carefully.

“Nothing. I walked out after that,” I say and shake my head.

“Without being dismissed?” Allura gasps.

“I dismissed myself.”

Shiro is trying hard not to look pissed and Allura doesn’t try to hide it. She is fuming.

“Do you think they’ll arrest me?”

“Doubt it. It would be a pain to replace you at this stage,” Shiro says. “They’ll probably give you a small score to lower your chance to get sponsors, or make your life a living hell.”

Thace laughs slowly. “What were their faces like?”

“Shocked. Terrified. One man tripped backwards into a bowl of punch.” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

Allura shakes her head. “Well, it serves them right. It’s their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you.”

“I’ll get a very bad score, ” I say.

“Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy, ” said Ulaz.

After dinner, we go into the living room to watch the scores announced on television. The Career Tributes naturally get in the eight-to-ten range. Most of the other players average a five. Surprisingly, little Rue comes up with a seven. I don’t know what she showed the judges, but she’s so tiny it must have been impressive.

District 12 comes out last and I wait for my face to show up, expecting the worst. Then they’re flashing the number eleven on screen and I feel I’m going too faint. The moment passes and Katie’s face appears on the big screen with the number 9 near it. Whatever she did, she scored higher than some Career Tributes!

Everyone congratulates us, but I still feel like it’s only a dream.

“How did that happen?” I ask Shiro and he smiles.

“They must have liked your temper. You put on a show. Congratulations, both of you. You did amazingly well!”

“You two really are on fire,” Thace says, shaking my hand.

It seems only me and Zethrid, the girl from District 2, got the highest scores.

“Wait till you see your clothes for the interview. You will sparkle in every shape and form,” Ulaz says, proud of his work.

Katie and I congratulate each other and she is the first one to excuse herself for the night. I also escape to my room as quickly as possible. The stress and exhaustion of the day finally kick in and as soon as I hit the pillow, I’m fast asleep.


	6. Lies

In the morning, I’m met with betrayal. Katie has decided to continue the coaching for the interviews separately. The thin connection that was between us suddenly vanishes. Even if there was no trust to begin with, I still feel disappointed. We’re tributes after all.

Part of me is relieved. We can finally stop pretending we are friends. The Games begin in two days and that connection would have only been a weakness. Whatever triggered Katie’s decision — and I suspect it had to do with my outperforming her in training — I should be nothing but grateful for it.

“So what’s the schedule?” I ask Shiro after he gives me the news.

“You’ll each have four hours with Allura for presentation and four with me for content. You start with Allura, Lance.”

And so, my final training begins. Allura puts me in a tight suit and talks about manners, how to present myself in front of the cameras. She says I have a charming smile and conditions me to use at every second. The audience must like me in order to gain sponsors.

After lunch, me and Shiro discuss on the couch about the content of my speech.

“You have everything on the plate. You volunteered for you big sister, Thace made you sparkle, your charm seems to affect every lady in the audience and you got the top training score. People are intrigued, but they don’t know much about you. How would you like to present yourself?”

I think about that for a second.

“What’s Katie’s approach?” I ask.

“It was hard to talk with her. I told her to appear angelic, it’s the best thing that works with her image, but her personality doesn’t align with that. When she opens her mouth, she comes out as hostile. You, on the other hand, can pass as the charming jokingly young man,” he says.

That could work. I tend to crack jokes when I’m in a stressful situation. If I come out as friendly and funny, people would like me.

I nod and Shiro starts to ask me questions, pretending to be the interviewer. The next hours pass at a speed and by the end of the session, I feel sure of my powers. I’m gonna be the best!

~

The next day, I wake up with the prep team near me. This day belongs to Thace. The team works on me until late afternoon, tuning my skin into satin and putting make-up on me for some reason and. One woman works on my hair, gelling it and trying to make me look presentable.

At the end, Thace enters with a suit. He makes me close my eyes, while the others dress me and I feel like a baby.

When I open my eyes, I’m dressed in an expensive black suit. It shines when light hits. Near the arms, red flames are embroidered,

“It’s amazing. Thank you,” I exclaim, looking at my stylist.

We meet up with the rest of the District 12 team at the elevator. Katie takes my breath away once again for the hundredth time this past week. Her long wavy hair is let loose on her back, framing her perfect face. Her eyes are watching me closely and my gaze falls to her round red lips. Her lashes throw bits of light every time she blinks. Her red dress is covered entirely with coloured diamonds and at her slightest movement gives the impression that she will be indulged in fire.

She’s perfect.

“You’re going to take everyone’s breath tonight,” I tell her in the elevator.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” she smiles and my heart stops for a second.

When the elevator stops, the other tributes are being lined up to take the stage. As always, District 12 is the last. Now I have to listen to how good everyone is before I go up. I’m going to be so anxious and stressed when my time will come.

Right before we parade onto the stage, Shiro comes up behind Katie and me and growls, “Remember, you’re still a happy pair. So act like it.”

What? I thought we abandoned that when Katie asked for separate coaching. But I guess that was a private, not a public thing. Anyway, there’s not much chance for interaction now, as we walk individually to our seats and take our places.

Blaytz Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for more than forty years, bounces onto the stage. It’s a little scary because his appearance has been virtually unchanged during all that time.

The girl tribute from District 1, looking provocative in a see-through gold gown, steps up the center of the stage to join Blaytz for her interview. You can tell her mentor didn’t have any trouble coming up with an angle for her.

Each interview only lasts three minutes. After that, the next tribute is up. Blaytz is very friendly and tries his best to make the tributes look good.

I listen to every kid, trying to pick up things about them to help me in the future.

And then, they call Katie’s name, and she makes her way to the couch. She tries to smile and wave and the crowd is ecstatic. They really love her and I don’t blame them. She made an impression on everyone.

“So, Katie, what did impress you the most since you arrived in the Capitol?” Blaytz asks.

“I just love the technology you have here, it’s amazing! The advances that our great capital has are truly outstanding,” she says flickering her eyelashes innocently. I see what game she plays – she is feeding their egos. Clever.

“Oh, it seems you are interested in mechanical things. Never would have guessed. District 12 is not really known for these kinds of things.”

“No, we are much further down, but I loved the opportunity I had to study all the things here this past week,”

The interview goes on and I suddenly feel stressed. Katie is killing it. She talks so freely and passionately, even if the things she says aren’t entirely true. She’s a good liar. At the end, she gets up and starts spinning, letting the skirt fly out. The dress indulges in fire and the audience screams in excitement, breaking into cheers.

Amazing. Ulaz has outdone himself.

Katie takes her place and I am next. I take a deep breath and go to the front of the stage. I didn’t even open my mouth and the crowd is already cheering.

I smile widely and charming, just like Allura has taught me.

“Lance, the boy on fire! You and your partner are killing it! This year District 12 is amazing!” Blaytz says, shaking my hand. “Tell me Lance, what did you enjoy most about your days here in the Capitol?”

  
“The food,” I say, trying to be as honest as I could.

The audience laughs and Blaytz chuckles. “You are not wrong, food is amazing, especially the cakes.”

I nod and the audience laughs again. How can I be so entertaining?! I just said two words.

“Now Lance, you actually won my heart when you volunteered for your sister. I speak for a lot of people when I say that was a very emotional moment. What did she tell you after the reaping?”

My heart sinks when I’m thinking of Veronica.

“She asked me to win. And I promised her that I will,” I say, and the audience let’s out a collective _‘ooh’_.

“I bet you did,” Blaytz says and turns to the crowd, who cheers. “Your score is actually historic for District 12. Tell us about it!!”

I turn my head to the balcony of Gamemakers. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it, right?”

“He’s not!” the man who fell in the punch bowl shouts out and I smirk.

“Sorry Blaytz, my lips are sealed,” I say and he laughs, alongside the audience.

I really didn’t want to talk about it and I’m thankful I’m not allowed.

“Last question Lance. You are a very handosme young man. There surely must be some special girl waiting for you back home.”

I hesitate for a bit. There never was a special girl. A special someone. Nobody except Keith and Katie. They both are very important to me, one has been by my side since forever and one has saved my life.

Even so, I decide to play my last card, remembering Shiro’s orders. _‘Remember, you’re still a happy pair. So act like it.’_

“Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on for a long time, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know I exist until the reaping,” I say in a small voice.

Two can play the same card, Katie. You are not the only liar here, even if my lie is based on truth.

Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love they can relate to.

“So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?” says Blaytz encouragingly.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning . . . won’t help in my case,” I say.

“Why ever not?” says Blaytz, mystified.

It’s now or never.

“Because…because…she came here with me.”

~

When we get backstage, the first thing Katie does is punch me right in the face.

“Ow! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” I scream, clutching my nose.

“You had no right! No right to say those things about me! We only spoke one time six years ago and miraculously you have a crush on me?”

“You…remember?”

“Of course I do…” she whispers.

Allura, Shiro, Thace and Ulaz make their way to us.

“Amazing performance Lance,” Shiro says and laughs.

“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” Katie asks, turning to Shiro. “You told us to be friends and now you want us to be lovers?!”

“Yes. I wanted to make Lance look charming and you desirable. His move made you both look good. Love is the best weapon against their hearts. Everyone will talk about you two. The star-crossed lovers from District 12! It’s the perfect lie!”

“A lie…” Katie whispers and I swear she’s blushing.

It was not entirely a lie. I am very grateful for her. She is beautiful and intriguing, but I wouldn’t call this love.

Or am I lying to myself?

“Everything is a big show. It’s all about how you two are perceived. Who do you think will get more sponsors?”

“He’s right. Moreover, you should have seen the look on your face when he said that. You were as red as your dress. At that moment everyone would have thought you were also in love with him!” Ulaz says to Katie, laughing.

“Fine,” she says when we enter the elevator. “I’m sorry I punched you.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t break anything. Although it’s technically illegal,” I say jokingly and she chuckles. The tension between us is starting to disappear and I’m glad.

~

After dinner, we watch the interviews and I also see the mad blush on Katie’s face. I’m also blushing like crazy and I imagine what a Capitol citizen must think about this. Hopefully, this move will help us.

I think about my family back home. Have they watched the interviews? What is Keith thinking about this? I never told him about the day Katie has saved me, so this must have come as a shock to him. I hope he is not mad.

After that, it’s time to go to bed, but not before Allura and Shiro say their final goodbyes. The Games will start tomorrow at 10, and we will travel to the arena with Ulaz and Thace, while the other two will be in the Capitol, signing up sponsors and making strategies to help one of us win.

Allura takes both of us by the hand and, with actual tears in her eyes, wishes us well. Thanks us for being the best tributes it has ever been her privilege to sponsor. She kisses us each on the cheek and hurries out, overcome with emotional parting and tears.

“Any final words of advice?” Pidge asks Shiro after Allura leaves the room.

“When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You should not participate in the blood bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water,” he says. “Got it?”

“And after that?”

“Stay alive,” he says.

We nod. What else is there to say? Tomorrow we march to our potential deaths.

~

The next morning, I don’t see Katie. There is only me and Thace on the roof when a hovercraft appears out of thin air and takes me away. A woman in a white lab coat approaches me with a syringe and puts a tracker in me. I’m glad I have Thace by my side to keep me company in my last minutes of _freedom._

I have my last breakfast on the plane and I eat as much as I can. It’s the only way to make sure I have enough fibre in me to last some days. I know nothing about the arena and I want to make sure I won’t be hungry for a long time.

My thoughts linger to Katie. Is she as stressed as me? I know we will see each other in the arena, but this time not as companions. We will be enemies. I pray she dies before I have to do something I’ll regret.

The hovercraft lands and me and Thace are lead down an underground tube. We must be under the arena. We follow instructions to my destination, a chamber for my preparation. In the Capitol, they call it the Launch Room. In the districts, it’s referred to as the Stockyard. The place animals go before slaughter.

Everything is brand-new, I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. The arenas are historic sites, preserved after the Games. Popular destinations for Capitol residents to visit, to vacation. Go for a month, rewatch the Games, tour the catacombs, visit the sites where the deaths took place. You can even take part in reenactments.

I am given the outfit, the same for every tribute. A simple shirt and pants, impermeable hooded long jacket and a sturdy brown belt. I am glad that the leather-boots are comfortable, perfect for running.

I think I’m finished when Thace pulls the gold mockingjay that Nyma gave me from his pocket. He places it on my jacket and looks into my eyes, proud.

“All set,” he says.

Nervousness seeps into terror as I anticipate what is to come. I could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour. I clench Thace’s hand hard. I’m afraid.

“Remember what Shiro said. Run, find water and the rest will follow,” he says and gives me a hug. “I know you can do it, Lance.”

A glass cylinder is lowering around me and I break the embrace. I glance one more time at Thace and he nods. “Good luck.”

The cylinder begins to rise and for some seconds I’m in darkness and then I’m out in the open air, blinded by the bright light.

Then I hear the announcer, his voice booming like thunder around me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!”


	7. First Days

We only have sixty seconds before the sound of the gong releases us. One step out of the metal circle before that and the land mines blow off your legs. A minute to examine your perimeter, the Cornucopia, the place where all the weapons, food, water, medicine and all kinds of helpful things are. Strewn around it there are other supplies, decreasing in value the farther they are from the horn.

I examine the arena. A plain of hardpacked dirt. Behind the tributes across from me, I can see nothing, indicating either a steep downward slope or even a cliff. To my right lies a lake. To my left and back, sparse piney woods. This is where Shiro would want me to go. Immediately. But the Cornucpoia is tempting. I know the Careers will capture the place. They had already formed alliances, long before the game started. I see a silver bow, just waiting for me there, almost screaming my name.

I’m pretty fast, but I’m not sure I can get there before anyone else. I know I’ll be a target. The bow is in the heart in the Cornucopia, in the hands of Death. I glance around and my gaze meets Katie’s. Dressed just like me, her hair up in a ponytail, bangs out of her face. She shakes her head, almost telling me it’s not worth it.

The gong rings, but I miss it. I miss my chance to run to the bow, because the other take off before me. I lunge forward, taking a loaf of bread and a sheet of plastic that are near my stand. I sprint forward to retrieve an orange backpack and I hope for the best.

A boy, I think from District 9, reaches the pack at the same time I do and for a brief time we grapple for it and then he coughs, splattering my face with blood. I stagger back, repulsed by the warm, sticky spray. Then the boy slips to the ground. That’s when I see the knife in his back. Already other tributes have reached the Cornucopia and are spreading out to attack. The boy from District 2 is ten meters away, running towards me, one hand clutching a half-dozen knives. I’ve seen him throw in training. He never misses. And I’m his next target.

Adrenaline shoots through me and I take the backpack, throw it over the shoulder and run at full speed to the woods. I don’t have time to look for Katie, as I hear a blade and reflexively hike the backpack up to protect my head. The blade lodges into it and I finally make for the trees. I know the boy won’t pursue me, I’m a lost cause and I silently thank him for the knife.

I’m not the best with a knife but is better than nothing. More than enough.

At the edge of the woods, I turn for one second to see about the corpses of the weakest kids laying dead in the grass, then I continue my run in the woods. My next objective is finding a source of water.

I am very lucky that the arena is modeled after the woods. They were my second home and I know everything that there is to know. I slowly start to gain my optimism back. I still have a chance.

~

When afternoon comes, I start hearing the cannons. Each shot for a dead tribute. The fight must be over at the Cornucopia and they came to collect the bodies from the bath blood. I wonder if Katie is between them. I lost track of her when I heard the gang, but I’ll be sure of it tonight. That’s when the names and images of the dead tributes will appear on the sky. I try to count the cannons. They are 9; almost half of us are already dead.

My thoughts run back to my _colleague_. I try not to imagine her dead pale skin and her empty eyes, looking through the void, no longer here, collected and dressed to be sent back to District 12.

Maybe it’s better if she’s gone. Ever since I saw her, so petit and innocent, I knew she wasn’t made for this.

When the sun begins to set, I take a break, slumping down near a tree. I open the backpack and see what’s in there. I have one thin sleeping bag, some glasses, wire, some crackers and a can of beef, a bottle of iodine, a box of wooden matches and a dry half-gallon plastic bottle. I think of the lake near the Cornucopia. The Career Tributes must be celebrating by now. I’m sure there is another water source around here, I just have to find it.

I continue my way downhill, trying to find a place to camp. I know night creatures will start appearing, there are mutants every year and I have a feeling this one is not an exception. I’m starting to feel exhausted, but I’m sure some tributes will start to haunt at night, so I try to find a place to conceal myself.

When night almost falls, I decide to climb up a tree and stay there. It’s the most practical thing I can do. Before that, I set up some traps in the bushes with the wire I have. I climb as high as I can and place my sleeping back to make the branch more comfortable. I tie myself to the tree with my belt and wait for the sky to darken completely.

When the stars appear on the night sky, I hear the Panem anthem blasting to invisible speakers. I look up to see who the victims of today were. If I were at home, we would watch coverage of each death, commented by Blaytz and his companion. In the arena, it would be an unfair advantage, so they just show the names of the dead.

The first to appear is the girl from District 3, so that means the Careers from the first two districts are still alive and I’m not surprised. Then the boy from district 5, both tributes from 6, the boy from 7 and the one from 8, both from 9. Only one left. Is it Katie? No, it’s the girl from district 10 and I sigh relieved.

The anthem ends and the night goes back to black. Slowly, I allow myself to relax and I fall asleep without anything happening.

The sky is still dark when I open my eyes. I hear screams and several pairs of feet coming in my direction. The victim, a girl, is pleading for her life in the distance. I wonder if that’s Katie. No, she wouldn’t be so stupid as to make a fire in the middle of the night. I hear laughter and someone cries out, “Ten down, fourteen to go!”

I’m not surprised they haunt in a group and I don’t have to wonder who part of it is. It must be the Career Tributes from District 1, 2 and 4. Six people in total.

After they check her for supplies, I hear them coming to my tree and my heart sinks. I’m not sure how concealed I am at the top of a tree.

Luckily, the careers stop in the clearing about ten meters away from me. They are having an argument. The canon should have gone out by now, but nothing happened. They turn back to check the body and don’t come back towards me again.

When I hear their steps disappear in the distance, I silently gather my stuff. I need to go, put some distance between me and them. I think about the audience. They know my every move and that makes me feel uncomfortable.

Before I leave, I check my traps. I am rewarded with a rabbit and after I pack the wire, I hurry to the dead girl’s camp. The body has already been taken by the hovercraft, but the coals of her fire are still hot. I slice the rabbit out and fry it. I want the sponsors to see how capable I am. Before I continue my search for water, I camouflage my backpack with mud and pack half of the rabbit.

Throughout the day, my head starts to hurt. I’m dehydrating at a high speed. I hear a cannon and I wonder if the Careers have found another victim.

I continue my journey, even if I start to feel nauseous. I know the cameras are watching me so I try to look brave, but it’s not used. This night, I repeat my arrangements, sleeping in a tree. I eat some of the rabbit, even if I have no appetite because of the thirst. I think of Shiro. He gets to control the flow of gifts from my sponsors, as my mentor. Surely there must be a sponsor for me! Can’t he see I’m dying? I just want to see a parachute coming from the sky with my one true desire. But it doesn’t come and I am left disappointed.

There must be a reason why he hasn’t helped me yet. Maybe he is trying to tell me I’m almost there. That there is little distance between me and the water.

I hope it is that way.

When night falls, I see the picture of the boy from district 10 and the girl from District 8, the one that was killed near the fire. My fear of the career pack is minor comparing to the one that I will die from thirst.

In the morning I take off slowly, using a stick to walk. I am so vulnerable, but I have to fight a little longer. I think of returning to the lake, but it’s no use. I will be dead until I reach it.

The sun is heating the arena and I feel like I’m on fire. Surely I’m being featured for all Panem to see. I stumble and fall and it’s hard to get up. My fingers touch something slippery. Mud. Mud! Mud!

I suddenly regain all my energy and I crawl faster, in the mud, like a wild animal. I see pond lilies and I know for sure this is the place. I see the pond, beautiful and clear. Flowers are on top and it feels like I’m in Heaven. I flip open the bottle and fill it up. I add some iodine to purify it and after waiting for half an hour I drink.

I refill it and eat the rest of the rabbit and some crackers. I regain my energy and I decide I will fall asleep at the base of the tree. Tonight there are no faces on the night sky.

After a few hours, I’m awakened by noise. It’s not yet dawn, but I’m blinded by light. It would be hard to miss the wall of fire descending on me.

I scramble from the tree and pack everything in a hurry. The world around me is on fire. It had transformed into smoke and fire. Was this the hand of the Gamemakers? A way to stray me further from the pond. They must be trying to close the distance between the rest of the tributes.

I try to follow the wild animals running away from the fire, trusting their sense of direction. I begin to cough, because of the smoke and my throat is on fire.

I try to put distance between me and the wall of fire. The audience must have some action, mustn’t they? I hear a ball of fire hiss behind me and I jump to the ground right as it passes my head.

What the hell is this? I’m attacked by fucking fireballs. I run in zig-zag, trying to avoid them. Remembering the past Games, I try to guess if certain parts are rigged or not.

Even so, I can’t react fast enough and the last fireball passes right by me, hitting me in the calf and I hiss in pain. My pants catch fire and I roll on the ground to stop it before I burn alive.

After what feels like a lifetime, the fireballs stop coming and I vomit. I am drenched in sweat and my stomach couldn’t take it anymore. Did the Gamemakers want to take the phrase _‘boy on fire’_ to the next level? Even so, I know that their objective was not to kill me. The real enjoyment is when the tributes are fighting. This was just a little _joke_.

I walk, putting distance between me and the smoke. The sky begins to clear, but my visibility is still poor, so I crawl in the mud. Before I can process, I fall ankle-deep into another pond and I feel relieved. I wash away the dirt and the blood and I take a look at my leg. A big portion of my calf is burned and it hurts. I feel sick just looking at it. I must get a hold of some medicine before I infect it, especially since it’s exposed.

I should get up. What if the Careers find me?

And find me they do. They take me by surprise and I take off running, but my leg is killing me, slowing me down. I hear laugher, they call me names, but I continue to run.

They are closing in, just like a pack of wild and I panic. I pick up the highest tree around me and climb it. It was the only solution. I couldn’t run so I had to put distance between us another way.

By the time they reach my tree, I’m already up. For a second, they look at me like I am their next meal.

This must be my end. Where else could I go? I hope Veronica and mom are not watching. All six of them stare, before one of them, the boy from District 2,Throk, decides to climb. He is way bigger and stronger than me and then it clicks. He won’t be able to reach me. He’s way too heavy.

“How are you doing?” I say and smile, looking at them cheerfully. They look at me confused, but I know the audience will love this.

“Well enough. You?” the girl from District 1, Ezor, says.

“It’s been a bit warm for my taste,” I say, keeping my cheerful persona. “The air’s better up here. Why don’t you come up?”

“I think I will,” Throk says and Ezor’s handing him the bow. My bow! I need to put my hands on it.

“No, I’ll do better with my sword,” he says and starts climbing. I give him some time and then I start climbing higher. I know where to place my hands and feet, but it seems Throk has some trouble. I hear him falling down and cursing and I chuckle.

Ezor, the girl with the arrows, tries to climb too, but she stops when she hears the branches beginning to crack under her. I’m at least 25 meters in the air by now. I could kill each one of them if I only had that bow.

The careers regroup on the ground and I hear them whisper conspiratorially. After some minutes, I hear the district 4 girl say harshly, ”Oh, let him stay up there. We can torment him. He can’t stay there for that long. We can deal with him in the morning.”

So the six of them make camp and I also put up my sleeping back. She was right, I’m not going anywhere. I drizzle some clean water on my wound. It’s starting to hurt more, but I try not to focus on that. Instead, I watch the perimeter. The night starts to fall, and the Careers make a fire. Through the darkness, I see the eyes of some animal in the distance. I try to make out the faint silhouette of someone in the trees.

Rue. The District 11 girl. She watches me silently from the shadows.

For how long has she been here? For a while, we hold each other’s gaze. Then, without even rustling a leaf, she lifts her hand and points at something over my head. I follow her finger and I make out the vague shape of a wasp nest.

This is the Hunger Games, so they probably aren’t ordinary ones. Suddenly I know what she’s saying. I have to cut down the branch, right on top of the Careers. Clever.

I realize that the best chance I have is to be stealthy. I should wait until they fall asleep so I can make my way up there. I don’t know if I can make it, because the branches become thinner with every step.

The seal of the Capitol appears on the night sky and stops me in my tracks. The anthem can cover my sounds! I start to climb, but the song ends when I’m only three quarters up, so I have to stop. No deaths occurred today. I don’t want to be next.

In the dim light of the fire, I make my way down to my sleeping bag. To my surprise, I see a small plastic pot attached to a silver parachute. My first gift from a sponsor! I unscrew the lid and find some kind of medicine. I put the ointment on my calf and the effect is almost magical, erasing the pain on contact. This is a miracle, a high-tech medicine created in the Capitol labs.

In the grey morning light, I examine my hands. The scars and red patched had disappeared. I apply another coat on my calf than put the rest of it in my b backpack. I pack slowly and look down to see the Careers asleep. In the distance, I can’t make out Rue. I whisper her name and her eyes appear wide and alert. I hold up my knife and signal her about what I’m going to do. She nods and disappears, away from the danger. Then the same noise again a bit farther off. I realize she’s leaping from tree to tree. It’s all I can do not to laugh out loud. Is this what she showed the Gamemakers? I imagine her flying around the training equipment never touching the floor. She should have gotten at least a ten.

I make my way up to the nest. I position the knife in the groove and start cutting it. I see the wasps moving slowly. They are starting to get up from their slumber and I hurry to cut down the branch.

Just as the knife cuts through, I push the branch with all the force I have left. One of the wasps strikes me in the neck and one in my arm and their venom makes me dizzy. The rest attack their true target.

The Careers wake up screaming. The wasps are everywhere, and I chuckle slowly. They wanted a show and I gave them one. Some of them have the sense to drop everything and run to the lake. They run away, parting ways, everyone going in different directions. Ezor and the other girl, the one from District 4, are not so lucky. They try to fight them but lose. I watch Ezor twitch hysterically and after some minutes go still.

The wasps vanish. The cannon goes off two times. The girl from District 4 and Ezor are dead and I climb down slowly.

I still feel nauseous and dizzy. I remember the bow and look for it in the mess. Ezor is still holding it tightly. Through my gaze, I see her face is horrible, her features eradicated; she is unrecognizable.

I start hallucinating and I hear the rest of the Careers returning.

I hear someone scream my name, telling me to run. A girl’s voice. Someone familiar. I see sandy-brown hair in the corner of my vision. Did Zethrid change her hair colour overnight? A boy shouts in pain. Someone is fighting. I don’t know what is reality and what is fiction. I must hurry. I run in any direction, trying not to hit any trees, but without success. I fall and start rolling downhill, hitting my head. I immediately black-out.


	8. Allies

I wake up when the sun is almost down. I am stiff, but somehow still alive. The venom must have worn off by now. I don’t remember what happened exactly, but I know that the wasps must have killed Ezor and the District 4 girl. I still clutch the bow tightly in my hand.

I breath in and out and get up. Now that I have a bow, I have a chance to win. It’s the weapon I master the best. I have almost a dozen arrows and my confidence exceeds. I am no longer pray to the remaining Careers. If Zethrid or Throk would come out of the trees right now, I wouldn’t run. I’d shoot and I wouldn’t miss.

I slowly make my way to find a water source. Thankfully, I still have my backpack, glued to my back, but the gallon of water is running out.

I hunt one of the birds and prepare dinner when the sun sets. Just when I’m finished, I hear a twig snap and I jump, bow in hand. There’s no one there. No one I can see anyway. Then I spot the tip of a child’s boot just peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. My shoulders relax and I grin. She can move through the woods like a shadow, you have to give her that. How else could she have followed me? The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Why don’t we form an alliance?” I ask and Rue steps out from her hiding spot.

“You want me for an ally?” she asks in a whisper.

“Why not? I owe you my life. Without you, I would probably be dead right now. You hungry?” I say and give her a piece of the bird.

“I can help you with your stings,” she remarks, pointing at my neck.

She sits by the fire and bandages me up. With the lotion I still have and the leaves she carries around, I’m as good as new. In exchange, I let eat the crackers and the rest of the fired bird.

I formed my first alliance and I couldn’t be happier.

~

Me and Rue make camp for the night, telling stories about home near the fire. It’s the first relaxing moment I have since arriving in the arena. When it gets colder I give her my sleeping back and we pick a high tree to settle.

“How many nights did I miss?” I ask after the anthem sings, signalling no deaths for the day.

“Only one,” she says. “The girls from district 1 and both of the tributes from four had died.”

Strange. I don’t remember how the boy died. I could have sworn he was still alive when I started hallucinating. There was a fight and…

“Do you know anything about the girl from my district? Katie?” I ask.

“Not much, but I have my suspicions. I spied on the remaining Careers when they returned to their base at the lake, before collapsing from the stingers. The cursed you two a lot. I believe she killed the district 4 tribute and injured the district 2 boy in the leg. He was limping back to the Cornucopia.” Rue says.

And then I remember. I’ve seen her there when Ezor died. She was the one screaming. Katie was there and she fought the Careers! She saved me! But what was she doing there? Where is she now? Is she ok? My mind and heart were racing.

“You really are lucky,” Rue continues.

“What?”

“You two are made for each other,” she said laughing. “I am sure she also likes you.”

I want to tell her that it’s all an act. That the things I said at the interview are not entirely true. But I remain silent. A part of me wants to find her. For the three of us to form an alliance. But it seems she is doing better than me. She had done so well by herself if she was able to kill a boy twice her size.

Rue shows me how to use the sunglasses I have in my backpack, which are actually night-vision ones. When I put them on, everything is clear.

“The careers have two pairs,” she says and now I know how they could hunt at night so easily. “They have a lot of thing at their base, supplies and food. They’re so strong.”

“Say they didn’t have all those supplies. They wouldn’t be so strong then,” I say, trying to cheer her up. Suddenly, I have a plan. The first plan I have ever made during these games. “Let’s fix that, Rue.”

~

We need to destroy their supplies, especially their food. I remember the years when the Careers couldn’t protect their food for a long time; those were the years when other district had won.

The cannon goes off at the dawn of day, waking up Rue. We don’t know who it is, but I try to count who is still alive. Rue tells me that her companion, Thresh is still alive. So that leaves me and Katie.

There are still a lot of people and I think the Gamemakers will plan something in the near future.

The death will probably hold off the audience, so we pack our things and have breakfast. During it I make guesses about the last death, Probably the careers woke up and resumed their hunt. That could give us a window to think about how to put our plan into action.

“Today we take the Career’s food,” I say after we finish the crackers.

“Really? How?” she asks but I shake my head. I didn’t form a coherent plan. I try to fish out more information from her. She was the only one who spied on them. They have set up their camp beside the lake. Their supply stash is about thirty yards away. During the day, they’ve been leaving another tribute, the boy from District 3, to watch over the supplies.

“Why the boy from 3?” as far as I can remember, he was not the best fighter.

“Yes. He stays there all day and night. It’s strange because he only uses a spear, but doesn’t seem to be the best at fighting,” Rue says, sharing the same opinion as me.

Why would they leave their supplies out in the open like that?

For a while, we dig roots, we gather berries and greens, we devise a strategy in hushed voices. And I come to know Rue, the oldest of six kids, fiercely protective of her siblings, who gives her rations to the younger ones, who forage in the meadows in a district where the Peacekeepers are far less obliging than ours.

I decide I have to protect this girl with all my life. She needs to win this more than me.

By lunch, we master a plan and by early afternoon we are ready to give it a try. I help Rue collect and place the wood for the first two campfires, the third she’ll have time for on her own. We decide to meet afterwards at the site where we ate our first meal together. The stream should help guide me back to it. Before I leave, I make sure Rue’s well stocked with food and matches. I even insist she takes my sleeping bag, in case it’s not possible to rendezvous by nightfall.

Before we part, Rue teacher me a signal that her people use back in District 11 to indicate the day’s work is done. She tells me that mockingjays usually copy this signal, so I will know if anything happens. She hugs me and we part ways.

I follow the stream to the place the Careers camped me. My thoughts run to Katie again, but I try to concentrate on the plan. The closer I get to the camp, the sharper my instincts grow. I reach Rue’s spying spot and look.

There are four tributes. The boy from District 1, Zethrid and Throk and a scrawny, ashen-skinned boy who must be from District 3. He made almost no impression on me at all during our time in the Capitol. I can remember almost nothing about him, not his costume, not his training score, not his interview. Even now, as he sits there fiddling with some kind of plastic box, he’s easily ignored in the presence of his large and domineering companions. But he must be of some value or they wouldn’t have bothered to let him live.

All four tributes seem to still be recovering from the tracker jacker attack. Even from here, I can see the large swollen lumps on their bodies. They must not have had the sense to remove the stingers, or if they did, not known about the leaves that healed them. Apparently, whatever medicines they found in the Cornucopia have been ineffective.

The Cornucopia sits in its original position, but its insides have been picked clean. Most of the supplies, held in crates, burlap sacks, and plastic bins, are piled neatly in a pyramid in what seems a questionable distance from the camp. A canopy of netting that, aside from discouraging birds, seems to be useless shelters the pyramid itself.

The whole setup is completely perplexing. The distance, the netting, and the presence of the boy from District 3. One thing’s for sure, destroying those supplies is not going to be as simple as it looks. Some other factor is at play here, and I’d better stay put until I figure out what it is. My guess is the pyramid is boobytrapped in some manner. I think of concealed pits, descending nets, a thread that when broken sends a poisonous dart into your heart. Really, the possibilities are endless.

While I am mulling over my options, I hear Throk shout out. He’s pointing up to the woods, far beyond me, and without turning I know that Rue must have set the first campfire. We’d made sure to gather enough green wood to make the smoke noticeable. The Careers begin to arm themselves at once.

An argument breaks out. It’s loud enough for me to hear that it concerns whether or not the boy from District 3 should stay or accompany them. “He’s coming. We need him in the woods, and his job’s done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies,” says Throk.

“What about that bitch from District 12?” asks the boy from District 1.

“I keep telling you, forget about her. With the cut I made, it’s a miracle she hasn’t bled to death yet. She’s in no shape to raid us,” Throk says and picks up his sword.

So Katie is still alive. Bleeding heavily but alive. I hope Shiro sent her something. I make a mental note to look for her after everything is done. She saved my life and I need to repay her.

“Come on, ” says Zethrid. She thrusts a spear into the hands of the boy from District 3, and they head off in the direction of the fire. The last thing I hear as they enter the woods is Zethrid saying, “When we find him, I kill him in my own way, and no one interferes.”

I know who’s she talking about. Me.

~

I stay for half an hour in the bush. Trying to think about what to do with the supplies. I can’t shoot from here so I try to get closer. I’m just about to reveal myself when a movement catches my eye. Several hundred yards to my right, I see someone emerge from the woods. For a second, I think it’s Rue, but then I recognize Foxface -the girl from district 5- creeping out onto the plain. When she decides it’s safe, she runs for the pyramid, with quick, small steps. Just before she reaches the circle of supplies that have been littered around the pyramid, she stops, searches the ground, and carefully places her feet on a spot. Then she begins to approach the pyramid with strange little hops, sometimes landing on one foot, teetering slightly, sometimes risking a few steps. At one point, she launches up in the air, over a small barrel and lands poised on her tiptoes. But she overshot slightly, and her momentum throws her forward. I hear her give a sharp squeal as her hands hit the ground, but nothing happens. In a moment, she’s regained her feet and continues until she has reached the bulk of the supplies.

So, I’m right about the booby trap, but it’s clearly more complex than I had imagined. The girl takes only a handful of things before making her little dance back to the other side of the woods.

Slowly it begins to dawn on me.

The land mines that remained from the start. They are using the boy from District 3, were they make technologies, automobiles and explosives, to trigger them after they were disabled.

I know the mines are set off by pressure. It doesn’t need to be a lot, as far as I can remember. I glance back up at the woods. The smoke from Rue’s second fire is wafting toward the sky. By now, the Careers have probably begun to suspect some sort of trick. Time is running out.

I stare at the pyramid, the bins, the crates, too heavy to topple over with an arrow. Maybe one contains cooking oil, and the burning arrow idea is reviving when I realize I could end up losing all twelve of my arrows and not get a direct hit on an oil bin, since I’d just be guessing. I’m genuinely thinking of trying to re-create Foxface’s trip up to the pyramid in hopes of finding a new means of destruction when my eyes light on the burlap bag of apples. Perfect.

I move in range and prepare to shoot. I block off the world as I let the arrow go, catching the torn flap of the burlap and ripping it from the bag.

For a moment, everything seems frozen in time. Then the apples spill to the ground and I’m blown backwards into the air.

The impact with the hard-packed earth of the plain knocks the wind out of me. My backpack does little to soften the blow. Unfortunately, my quiver has caught in the crook of my elbow, sparing both itself and my shoulder, and my bow is locked in my grasp. The ground still shakes with explosions. I can’t hear them. I can’t hear anything at the moment. But the apples must have set off enough mines, causing debris to activate the others.

I finally get up, the moment the ground stops vibrating. I laugh. The Careers aren’t likely to salvage anything out of that. That’s why I am the sharpshooter.

I’m still a little bit dizzy, but I manage to return to the bush before I hear Throk return to the plain. His rage is so extreme it might be comical — so people really do tear out their hair and beat the ground with their fists — if I didn’t know that it was aimed at me, at what I have done to him. Zethrid is the same. It’s so strange to see her throw a fit, but it makes me laugh. This is the best day of my life. The audience must be seeing this as well. I put on an explosive show for them, so they should be thankful.

The boy from District 3 throws stones into the ruins and must have declared all the mines activated because the Careers are approaching the wreckage. They are poking around in the mess, looking for anything to salvage, but there’s nothing. The boy from District 3 has done his job too well. Zethrid turns to him and in a swift move, jerks the boy’s head to the side.

She just killed him with her bare hands. The canon goes off. The other two Careers seem to be trying to calm her down. I can tell she wants to return to the woods, but they keep pointing at the sky, which puzzles me until I realize, Of course. They think whoever set off the explosions is dead. They don’t know about the arrows and the apples. They assume the booby trap was faulty, but that the tribute who blew up the supplies was killed doing it. If there was a cannon shot, it could have been easily lost in the subsequent explosions. The shattered remains of the thief removed by hovercraft.

A hovercraft appears and takes the dead boy. The sun dips below the horizon. Night falls. Up in the sky, I see the seal and know the anthem must have begun. A moment of darkness. They show the boy from District 3 then the girl from District 7, who must have been the one to die this morning. Then the seal reappears. So, now they know. The bomber survived.

I see the two District 2 tributes put on their night-vision glasses and the boy from district 1 torching a tree branch. They return to the woods to hunt. They probably think the bomber has a two- or three-hour lead on them. Still, it’s a long time before I risk moving.

I drink some water and then put on my own pair of glasses. I think of Rue. I hope she made it to the rendezvous point. I run through the surviving tributes on my fingers. There are only ten left. The betting must be getting really hot in the Capitol. They’ll be doing special features on each of us now. Probably interviewing our friends and families. It’s been a long time since a tribute from District 12 made it into the top ten. And now there are two of us. Although from what Throk said, Katie’s on her way out. Not that I would count on his word or anything.

I scoop out a hollow under the bushes for the night and I fall asleep, thinking or Rue, Katie and my family.

~

When I open my eyes, the sun is up. I hear a laugh somewhere near the lake and freeze. I peer through the bushes, afraid the Careers have returned, trapping me here for an indefinite time. No, it’s Foxface, standing in the rubble of the pyramid and laughing. She’s smarter than the Careers, actually finding a few useful items in the ashes. A metal pot. A knife blade. I’m perplexed by her amusement until I realize that with the Careers’ stores eliminated, she might actually stand a chance. Just like the rest of us.

It crosses my mind to reveal myself and enlist her as a second ally against that pack. But I rule it out. There’s something about that sly grin that makes me sure that befriending Foxface would not go as planned. It’s also the fact what the alliance should remain small. It’s for the better.

With that in mind, this might be an excellent time to shoot her. But she’s heard something, not me, because her head turns away, toward the drop-off, and she sprints for the woods. I wait. No one, nothing shows up. Still, if Foxface thought it was dangerous, maybe it’s time for me to get out of here, too. Besides, I’m eager to tell Rue about the pyramid.

Since I’ve no idea where the Careers are, the route back by the stream seems as good as any. At one point, I find boot prints in the mud along the bank. The Careers have been here, but not for a while.

When I reach the site of our first meeting, I feel certain it’s been undisturbed. There’s no sign of Rue, not on the ground or in the trees. This is odd. By now she should have returned, as it’s midday. Undoubtedly, she spent the night in a tree somewhere.

Waiting for her, I scale a tree, trying to be cautious. I eat something, but my stomach still feels empty. I try to do things to pass times. Tie my boots, think about my adventures with Keith, peel some nuts and check over my remaining arrows.

Dangling up in the tree, with the sun warming me, a mouthful of mint, my bow and arrows at hand . . . this is the most relaxed I’ve been since I’ve entered the arena. If only Rue would show up, and we could clear out. With every passing hour, I become more restless. By late afternoon I decide to go search for her.

I leave some mint leaves on the camp, to give her a sign I’m ok if she comes back and I begin my journey.

In less than an hour, I’m at the place where we agreed to have the third fire and I know something has gone amiss. The wood has been neatly arranged, expertly interspersed with tinder, but it has never been lit. Rue set up the fire but never made it back here. Somewhere between the second column of smoke I spied before I blew up the supplies and this point, she ran into trouble.

I didn’t hear a cannon so I decide to remain optimistic. Whatever happened, I’m almost certain she’s stuck out there, somewhere between the second fire and the unlit one at my feet. Something is keeping her up a tree.

Suddenly I hear it. Rue’s little signal coming out of a mockingjay’s mouth. I smirk and follow it’s direction. My eyes lift up into the trees, searching for a sign of her. I swallow and sing softly back, hoping she’ll know it’s safe to join me. A mockingjay repeats the melody to me. And that’s when I hear the scream.

“Lance! Lance!”

It’s Rue!

I shout her name and run in the direction of the scream. “I’m coming!”

When I break into the clearing, she’s on the ground, hopelessly entangled in a net. She just has time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body.


	9. Together

The boy from district 1 dies before he can pull the spear and throw it in my direction. My arrow drives deeply into his neck. He is the first person I killed with my own to hands.

I don’t have enough time to process things because I ‘m panicking. Rue cries silently, rolled over her side. I free her from the net and take out the spear. I look at the wound and I know it’s lethal.

I stare hopelessly and I feel tears down my cheeks. She reaches for my hand I take it in mine. I try to comfort her the same way Veronica did when I had a nightmare.

“You blew up the food?” she whispers.

“Every last bit.”

“D-D you know why I wanted to be your friend?” she asks in between tears and I shake my head.

“The mockingjay pin…I knew I could trust you.” She chuckles slowly. “You have to win,” she says in a whisper and I break out in tears.

“I’m going to. For the both of us. I promise,” I say and I pull closer. I try to sing one of the songs father used to love, even if my throat is tight with tears,

I see her lips curl upward slowly and she closes her eyes.

When I finish the song, I know I am alone. The cannon fires and I start crying uncontrollably. I don’t care if all the cameras are on me, if the audience is laughing at my vulnerability. It’s not fair. Nothing matters anymore. My sadness transforms into fury. Rage.

I get up, slowly as not to wake her up, and pocket the district 1 boy. I also take Rue’s bag, as I know she would have wanted me to have it. I also glance at the district 1 boy, but part of me can’t bring myself to hate him. The Capitol is the one I hate. The one responsible for everything.

I start picking flowers from the bank nearby. I will shame each and everyone of them. I put them near Rue’s body, in a supposed funeral.

“Bye, Rue, ” I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction. Then I walk away without looking back.

~

I have no idea where to go. I wonder around, feeling lost and depressed, until sunset comes. I’m not afraid anymore. I want to fight. To fight for Rue and for all the innocent kids that died. I’d kill anyone I meet on site and win.

I come across no one. There are little of us left and the arena is big. Soon, the Gamemakers would pull another thing to make us close the distance, but I don’t think that will be today.

I make camp in a tree, as usual. I eat what is left of a bird I had in my backpack. When night falls, I get my second sponsor gift. When I open it, I come across a loaf of bread, made from dark ration grain. I instantly know it’s a gift from District 11? It had been meant for Rue, surely. But instead of pulling the gift when she died, they’d authorized Shiro to give it to me. As a thank-you? Or because, like me, they don’t like to let debts go unpaid? For whatever reason, this is a first. A district gift to a tribute who’s not your own.

I know the cameras are watching so I lift my head and thank the people of district 11 and eat half of it. It’s still warm and it brings back memories of Katie. Maybe I should look for her.

The anthem starts playing and I see the District 1 boy and Rue. Katie is still alive as it seems, but I don’t think it would last for long. If what Throk said is true, maybe she is breathing her last breath now.

Maybe I shouldn’t look for her. Maybe I should let her die. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Not when she fought for me. Not after seeing Rue killed in front of me.

~

In the morning, I look over my supplies, which unfortunately are running low. The boy from District 1 has several knives, a flashlight, a first aid kit, a full bottle of water and a pack of druid fruit. I take one of the knives and conceal the others under some rocks, so nobody could use them.

Today I need to hunt, because my food is running pretty low. I return to Rue’s first fire and roast another rabbit. I don’t care about the smoke. Zethrid can come for me for all I care. I will fight her. She must know I have Ezor’s bow and that I blew up the supplies.

I keep the fire going, in hopes of someone showing up, but nobody does. Maybe the other tributes are fighting each other to death. Which would be fine. I know that ever since the bloodbath I’ve been featured on the screens for more than I want.

After I eat, I pack my bags and continue down the stream. I think about the boy from district 1, who was my first kill. I guess technically I’d get credited for Ezor and the girl from 4, too. They also had families, friends, who were waiting for them to return home. I hear Keith in my mind. ’ _How different can it be?’_

Killing an animal and a human.

My hatred for the Capitol raises.

When night comes again, I see no new deaths, even if the anthem plays. After the song ends, I prepare to go to sleep, but I hear the trumpets and I instantly wake up.

For the most part, the only communication the tributes get from outside the arena is the nightly death toll. But occasionally, there will be trumpets followed by an announcement. Usually, this will be a call to a feast. When food is scarce, the Gamemakers will invite the players to a banquet, somewhere known to all like the Cornucopia, as an inducement to gather and fight. Sometimes there is a feast and sometimes there’s nothing but a loaf of stale bread for the tributes to compete for. I wouldn’t go in for the food, but this could be an ideal time to take out a few competitors.

The presenter's voice booms like thunder. They are not inviting us to a feast. He is saying something that confuses me a lot. There has been a rule change. This never happened before. I listen closely to what the new rule is. Under it, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive.

Both Tributes from the same district.

Same district.

Before I can stop myself, I call out Katie’s name in the darkness, but I get no response.

Am I delusional?! I clap my hands over my mouth, waiting for an assailant, but no one comes. Of course, we are only six left. Too little. I start laughing.

Katie, who is dying somewhere in this huge arena just became my ally. I wonder if she heard the announcement. If she is happy.

The _two star-crossed lovers_ …For two tributes to have a shot at winning, our “romance” must be so popular with the audience that condemning it would jeopardize the success of the Games. It’s so strange, really. The two of us didn’t interact during the game, so maybe her fighting the Careers for me has warmed the hearts of every Capitol citizen. Maybe the audience saw this as a way for her to confess.

The thought makes me smile. I drop my hands and hold my face up to the moonlight so the cameras can be sure to catch it.

I think about who is left. Foxface, Thresh, District 2 and us. It seems only Throk, Zethrid, me and Katie fall under the new rule. Foxface doesn’t seem to be a threat. Her strategy seems to be evade not attack. Thresh could be more dangerous. He is twice my size and I know if we are to fight I would probably lose. It’s strange that I haven’t seen him since the Games started. He must be in the other direction on the Cornucopia, the place where I haven’t been yet.

Zethrid and Throk are surely celebrating the new rule together. They’re the only ones left who can benefit from the change of rule.

I think of Katie. Tomorrow I will find her and the two of us will return home together. Alive.

~

When the sun starts to rise, I pack my things and climb down. Today I need to be extra careful. The Careers must know I’m trying to find Katie.

I try to think about anything she ever said to me that might indicate where she may like to hide, but nothing comes to mind. I wonder what was she doing near the place where me and the Careers were that day. Was she following them or me? Waiting for the perfect moment to attack like a predator. Now I know for sure I shouldn’t have underestimated her all those time in the Capitol. She is scary and my mind tells me the district 4 boy is not the only one who she killed.

The thing first that comes to mind is water. If she is badly wounded, she would need water to stay alive. I know she would follow Shiro’s instructions and so the stream becomes my first to clue to her whereabouts. She must be hidden near a pond, lake or river.

The lake is out of the question – too close to the Careers.

Ponds are too small, and she would be a sitting duck.

So that leaves the stream. She could change her location anytime she wants and walk in the current to erase any tracks. I know she would do this because she is clever.

I start some fires to confuse my enemy and I head downstream, with my feet through the water. I’m sure she knows I’m looking for her, even if she is hard to predict.

The stream begins to curve and I follow.

Muddy banks covered in tangled water plants lead to large rocks that increase in size until I begin to feel somewhat trapped. It would be no small matter to escape the stream now. I think I took off in the wrong direction.

Suddenly, I see it. Blood. Little patches at first. I follow them slowly. They disappear and reaper in different places, almost like someone tried to hide their tracks. Chaotic. The stream becomes more rocky, going upwards. I spot some cave-like structures. She must be here.

I spot one about twenty-meters away from me and I decide to start from there. There’s a little opening, but I see blood and I know this is the place. I descend slowly and then I see her.

In the back of the cave, almost all covered in darkness, sitting down with a kukri pointed at me is Katie Holt.

“You here to finish me off, loverboy?” she asks and hearing her voice for the first time in so many days makes me happy.

“We are a team now, Katie,” I say and approach her cautiously.

The air is stiff and it smells awful. How long has she been here? With every step I take, I can see her more clearly.

“What happened to your hair?” I ask and she laughs out loud, dropping the knife by her side.

“Half of my face is in ruin and the first thing you ask is why my hair is shorter?” she says.

It was the first thing I noticed. She had cut it and now her hair reached her shoulders, still wavy and framing her face. In truth, I didn’t want to acknowledge the biggest picture. That was what Throk must have been talking about. He cut her over her left eye, from her forehead to her check, deep into the skin.

As far as it seems, she tried to patch it up with a cloth from her shirt, but it was soaked with blood. I don’t think her eye is doing pretty well.

“Is this the only place you’re hurt?” I ask and sit down next to her.

“Arm, but it’s not so bad,” she says almost laughing and I look down at her hand. He penetrated it.

“You call this fine?”

It was awful. I’m surprised how she didn’t bleed to death yet. I take out my first aid kit and bottles of water. I don’t know how much I can salvage, but I try my best.

I wash away the dirt away from her face and try not to look too closely at the nasty scar. I don’t think it’s salvageable. I try to bandage her around the head, where I discover another gush near her temple.

“When did you get this?” I ask.

“I fell off trying to save you, idiot.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I was looking for water. I just had the luck to stumble in you and that pack of wolves. When I saw they were attacked by wasps I seized the opportunity, but it seems they weren’t drugged enough. I tried to buy time for you to run, seeing you were hallucinating as hell.”

“You killed the boy from district 4, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I also managed to trust one of my knives in Throk, but he did more damage to me than I could ever do to him. I was lucky he started hallucinating and ran away. When I turned to look for you, you were gone,” she says and closes her good eye. “I don’t even know how many days have passed. I’ve been in and out of sleep. I wasn’t able to treat my injuries correctly and I think they are infected,” she says in a whisper.

I put my hand on her forehead. She’s got a fever. A big one. I make her take some medicine and give her the rabbit I have left. I look through her bag. She only has some matches, three knives, leaves and roots and an empty bottle of water.

While she eats, I look at her hand. It’s swelling and there’s a deep inflamed gash. The smell of festering flesh is awful. Even so, it looks more salvageable than the eye.

“Pretty awful, huh?” she asks in a joking manner.

“I never took you for the one to make jokes. I thought that was my domain,” I say and she laughs tiredly.

I don’t know how to help her. I try to clean the cut and put some lotion, then bandage it with the remaining clean cloth from the kit. It’s only temporarily before the bandages will again be soaked in blood.

After I finish, I also eat what’s left and take a deep breath.

“Did you get something from Shiro?” I ask while I set up the sleeping back for her to be more comfortable.

“Bandages and a first aid kid. I ran out of them after the first day. I was losing too much blood. What did you get?”

“Burn medicine and some bread,” I say.

She nods and chuckles and I can feel she is dozing off. The infection is making her weaker.

While she sleeps, I also lay down next to her. She survived all this time by herself, eating roots and trying to fight an infection she can’t escape. She is dying all because of me. Because she tried to save me. I can’t let the Rue situation repeat. Not know when we have a chance to return home together.

When afternoon comes, she wakes up and I help her drink some water.

“Thanks for finding me, Lance,” she says in a whisper and I can’t help but smile.

“You can thank me with a kiss,” I say, remembering the lover thing. She laughs and I relax.

“But really, you would have done the same for me. You actually did,” I say and I thank her.

“Look, if I don’t make it…” she starts, but I stop her.

“Don’t talk like that. It’s almost over. I can feel it,” I say, but she shakes her head.

“But just in case –“ she tries to continue and an impulse washes over me. I lean down and press my lips to hers. I don’t know if it’s part of the act or what she really feels, but she kisses me back, with her soft and hot lips. I’m lost in the kiss. It’s my first one and I enjoy it more than I should.

She breaks away after what feels like an eternity and I’m thankful for the darkness because I’m blushing furiously.

I bet we are the spotlight of the night. Everyone watching our lovely-dovey shit. I lean down again, this time to whisper in her ear. “You’re not going to die. I forbid it.”

I take her in my arms and she relaxes in my hug.

“I see them when I sleep. I killed the district 3 girl in the bloodbath. Thrust a knife in her until she stopped moving. She looked at me with empty eyes and I almost emptied my breakfast right then and there. On the second day, I killed the district 10 boy. Crept on him in his camp, while he was sleeping. Sliced his throat and stole all his supplies. I am as bad as the Careers. I just should have left him live, but I was selfish. The arena is getting to me. When I started having the fever, I had hallucinations. I saw the two of them speaking to me, shouting and crying. When I’m with you I can finally sleep peacefully,” she says and I fell tears on my shirt.

I feel bad for her. I know what she’s talking about. The arena is also getting to me. After we break the embrace, I step out to take a breath of air. Just then, I see a small sliver parachute descending to us.

I hurry back into the cave and open the packet. I hoped for some medicine, but instead, we get a pot of hot broth. It’s not the best, but it will help with her fever.

Katie tries to eat it with her good arm. It takes a long time to do it and I suggest I help her, but she’s stubborn and does it herself. I also eat a fish I got from the steam and some roots, even if Katie offers me some of the soup.

I let her have it all and after that, she dozes off. She sleeps peacefully, curled in the sleeping bag. It must be the first time she gets a good sleep. I watch the daily report, but there are no deaths. I set up something to alarm me if someone enters the cave and I go to sleep, sliding into the sleeping bag near Katie. Her fever has gone down, but in the bag, it’s still overly-hot. I feel hopeless. I don’t know what to do, but I hope for the best.


End file.
